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Pg 13




Magick Carpet Ride

A draped cloth of shimmering red
Crowns the joss smoke's spirals
Kundalini-like about my head,
The Goddess just a breath away.

Jungle palms signal the forks of Shiva
Lightning-coloured, streaking skies
As I rise to the magick carpet ride
Of the wise old man.

He sits watching the ocean
Again and again he chases words away
Removes every scene from the picture
Of this day.

In the eroded canyon of Petra's door,
He ties up his camel, breaks fast
Once more and praises Allah
For all he has discovered.

And far away the ocean shudders
With the mourning of dolphins
And far away a city science lover wonders
Where are the real beginnings

And the wind blows through me
Beneath these red threads of arabesque
And the stars show other times
Of testing sextants and longitude's line.

And tonight in the Clan House, all these
Ghosts of my forefathers
Curl amongst the ropes of incense,
Menace the courtyard

With their burning, smouldering eyes,
With their waning, dark intent.

And far way, in a cave
full of this time's treasures
I yearn again
For my own

Magick Carpet Ride to begin.

 2006 Sean Woodward

From “Dervish Days”, Dragonheart Press 2006

Scarlet Queen

If I paint your naked body
Place the feint of a red mask
Upon your face
Remember that I am the King
That all who sing the song
Of scarlet ochre
Belong to me
Long for me.

If I make saints of my enemies
Take the scented lands
Into my kingdom
Remember that I am the one
Chosen since before time
And all who cross the line
Of scarlet ochre
Are mine
Have no hope of secrets left to find.

If I take your naked body
Shake a pattern of cobalt stars
Across your breasts
Remember that I am the Summer King
That all who call me
In the scarlet ochre of the dark moon
Stand tall before me
in a room of burning incense
And hastily chalked remnants of protection
Are made holy in their purpose.

If I paint your naked body
For all of tainted time
With the signs of the crossroads
Remember that I am the King
That I see no human beauty
Only masks of misery and blood.
And when you have understood that
Then call my name
Wrap yourself in black flame

And when you have sisterhood,
Sat long with the moon
Then call my name
Wrap yourself in the argent bloom
Ride the silver broom
Take the white blood of my veins

My Scarlet Queen, My Babalon

And I'll paint your naked body
In a thousand names of chameleon change
And I'll take your naked body
At one with the wandering beast
To the kingdom that has no name

Where the Winter King and the Scarlet Queen
Forever reign.

 2006 Sean Woodward

From “Dervish Days”, Dragonheart Press 2006

Keepers of the Way

Across the blood red sands
We are carrying
The secret of St Anthony.

From his distant lands
We return disfigured,
Legs refashioned

To defy gravity.

We let him spy us, that man Dali,
The obelisks of Giza upon us.

We let him take one look, than man
At our elephantile space carvan.

Across the nights
In search of holy water
We walked 

We sought only to whisper
The secret thoughts
No power will utter

Until the still of winter.

We carry the liquid elixir
Transformation is our name
No man follows us

Save him that came.

We travel to the plains
Of the stars
Reach out

Our trunks and spill galaxies.

We are the keepers of the way
Entrusted by Thoth
To make the journey

Across the crimson sands
Of your memory.

 2006 Sean Woodward

From “Dervish Days”, Dragonheart Press 2006

Billion Dollar Skin

Wrap yourself in the black skin
Of burning oil
It's that easy, to begin
To see soil, ancestors,
All living beings

In a different, distant light.

Now you can step through
The nightmare storm
Of flying shoes,
Fused skin and torn body parts
Fearing no harm
Fearing no human

In your billion dollar skin.

With your polished perfection
Of darkened heart and darkened mind
You watch reflections of misery
Stride tall
In the boiling destruction
Of the Western Sahara's sun.

Still not content, you circumvent your body
With the charred flags of all these nations,
A vagrant reading Tarot cards,
Pretending Death is just
"a period of transformation".

And amid the slickness
Of your billion dollar skin
I see the ghosts swimming
And in the shiny superiority
Of your billion dollar grin
I see specters waiting
To begin their uprising.

May Allah fill your mouth with sand
May Shaitan take your idle hands
May all the shades of the dead
Invade your head

Shred your billion dollar skin.

May the desert begin without end
To put the oil back where it belongs
Leave the dunes of Algeria
The near emptiness of Laayoune
To the sinking sun
To the rising moon

To the strong beat of a billion dollar skin
Stretched taught beneath
The drumming desert's palm.

 2006 Sean Woodward

From “Dervish Days”, Dragonheart Press 2006